


Run Boy, Run

by Sarcastic_Metaphor



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, Character Study, Gen, Luke-centric but Annabeth POV, Pre-Canon, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, but they're both kinda messed up, he and Annabeth really do care about each other, pre-PJO, this is before Luke turned into an evil bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:48:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25808380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcastic_Metaphor/pseuds/Sarcastic_Metaphor
Summary: On his bad days, all Luke would do is run. Run laps in the arena, run through the strawberry fields, run around the entire perimeter of the camp over and over again.-----A character study on Luke pre-canon, and his coping mechanisms that only Annabeth knows how to deal with.
Relationships: Luke Castellan & Annabeth Chase, Luke Castellan & Annabeth Chase & Thalia Grace
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	Run Boy, Run

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I'm really out here writing PJO fanfiction in the year 2020. But hey, idk what else I'll do in quarantine. 
> 
> Anyways, I've been rereading the PJO series and I'm starting to fall in love with it all over again. So I really couldn't just /not/ write anything for it, and Luke is a much more interesting character to me now than when I was a kid. Please enjoy my spin on his character!
> 
> Title from the Woodkid song of the same name.

On his bad days, all Luke would do is run. Run laps in the arena, run through the strawberry fields, run around the entire perimeter of the camp over and over again. Most people thought there was no rhyme or rhythm to it, but Annabeth knew the signs. Usually, it was a stare with distant eyes and a twitch in his fingers. He’d bare his teeth more often, like he was yearning to grit them. Luke would get antsier, like there was an itch under his skin not even brutal training could cure. 

And then the next time Annabeth would see Luke, it’d be on the horizon while he seemingly sprinted for his life. It was impressive, sometimes. Campers who didn’t know him as well as Annabeth did remarked about how fast he was, how well Luke could outpace even the wood-nymph running instructors. They’d joke around and say he had the makings of an Olympic-level athlete. 

The issue that Annabeth had seen all too well was when Luke didn’t stop. Of course, he’d gotten better over the years. Nowadays, he’d often quit before he got too tired. He’d keep himself from collapsing because he was the counselor for the Hermes cabin, and had duties to them first and foremost. And he almost always stopped if Annabeth caught him and managed to stare him down.

But when the summer ended and most of the campers left to go live in the world, with families who loved them and homes waiting for them, Luke would have his bad days and all he’d do is run. Annabeth never asked him why. She didn’t have to. He was a son of Hermes, fleet-footed messenger god of travellers and roads. Moving, running, and continuously pushing himself forward was in Luke’s blood, more so than anyone else in his cabin.

But on his very worst days, Luke would run until his feet bled and he passed out from exhaustion. And then Annabeth and Chiron would have to haul him out of the sun or rain or snow or wherever else he had collapsed without warning. 

More than once, she found him at the base of Thalia’s tree, unconscious and with shoes worn so thin, they had holes in them. 

Annabeth never asked him, but she knew Luke wished he was the one who stayed behind. He had been the oldest of them at the time. He had been on his own the longest and knew best how to survive. But during a night freezing cold and pouring rain, swift feet and fast thinking wouldn’t have saved them from hellhounds and all of Hades’ fury. Only sheer strength would have saved them from that.

And Thalia had that in abundance. 

Annabeth remembered being carried in Luke’s arms all the way down to the Big House, her ankle twisted. She remembered how Luke swore he’d race to find help.

It was hard for him, but Annabeth still wished he’d try to talk to her. 

Today was another bad day. Or rather, a bad  _ night, _ seeing as it was well past curfew. There were only a handful of campers who lived year-round, so it wasn’t hard for Annabeth to poke her head in Hermes’ cabin and see that Luke wasn’t there. So Annabeth armed herself and climbed up the hill, guided by her tiny keychain flashlight. She had a blanket draped over her shoulders, a small baggie of ambrosia in one hand and a bottle of water tucked in the crook of her arm. At the crest of the hill, she found Luke under Thalia’s branches. 

It wasn’t quite winter yet, but the night air was still far too cold for him to be out like this. 

Annabeth sat down by Thalia’s tree and nudged Luke until he stirred. 

“Luke. Luke, wake up…”

His blue eyes looked almost silver in the moonlight. He groaned as he sat up, holding his head and combing the pine needles out of his hair. He blinked in the darkness, taking in the moon and the sky full of stars. He buried his face in his hands as his shoulders slumped. 

“I did it again, didn’t I?”

Annabeth nodded. She handed Luke the baggie and the bottle. She draped half the blanket over his shoulders, keeping the other half for herself. His bare arm brushed against hers, and she shivered from how cold his skin was. For the next few minutes, she sat in silence as Luke scarfed the ambrosia and chugged the entire bottle of water in seconds. She wondered if he had eaten anything at all today.

When he was done, Luke wiped his mouth and pulled his legs closer to his body so he sat cross-legged. Annabeth shined her flashlight on his feet, noticing his muddy sneakers and how thin the soles were worn. 

“Take off your shoes,” she said. Her voice was quiet, no louder than the wind and the distant sea, but still firm.

“Annabeth…”   
  
“Please?” She asked. How far had he gone this time?

Luke bit his lip, hesitating for a moment. Then, slowly, he untied his laces and peeled his shoes off. His athletic socks beneath were caked with dried mud and a very dark, reddish-brown color. Annabeth didn’t cry, not like the first time it happened. Her eyes only flickered toward Luke’s face. He was carefully avoiding her sharp gaze. 

“Let me see,” she said. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks. The ambrosia helped.”

Under any other circumstances, Annabeth would have rejoiced over being able to help Luke. But not tonight, and not now. She gestured with her flashlight. 

“Let me see.”

Luke was stubborn, but so was she. And Luke obeyed, even though he was much older than her. She surveyed the damage with clinical eyes. The ambrosia had healed whatever blisters Luke gained, but Annabeth could see the stained, peeling bandaids on the backs of his ankles. 

She fought the urge to grimace. Annabeth was willing to admit that Luke had terrible feet. They were covered in calluses from all his years of running and training, with blisters he seldom ever let fully heal. But what was worst were the scars. Years upon years worth of scars that built up on his feet from all his running. 

She remembered that one autumn a few years ago, when Chiron thought he could stop Luke’s bad habit by taking his shoes away at night. They thought it worked until they found him in the early morning, running barefoot. He had been going at it the whole night, running over rough paths and even brambles in the woods without feeling a thing. 

Annabeth hated the glassy, hollow look in his eyes when they found him. She hated how all he could do was stare off in the distance, gaze fixed on Thalia’s tree. 

She glanced toward her Luke in the present. 

“Are you done?”   


She was patient, but she knew better than to think just because Luke was exhausted, he’d stop. She was used to seeing him soaked in sweat in the dead of winter. And if Luke wouldn’t stop because of little Annabeth’s tears, she’d make him stop from the firmness of her stormy stare and her sheer determination. Besides, it was late, Annabeth was tired, and Luke needed a warm bed to sleep in.

He rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I’m sorry.”   
  
“But are you done?”

Luke glanced toward her, something akin to regret etched in his face. “Yeah… I think I am.”

He pulled his socks and his shoes back on. Humorlessly, he chuckled.    


“Wow… I really burned through these guys, huh?”

He had gotten those shoes only a month ago. 

Annabeth stood up as well. She forced Luke to wrap the rest of her blanket around himself. He raised a brow, but didn’t say another word. The two of them started trekking down the hill, heading for the cabins. Annabeth kept her eyes ahead, but she still saw the way Luke would occasionally wince. The joints in his ankles and knees popped more than once. 

“You should carry a bottle of water with you when you run. Or some gatorade. Electrolytes are good for you when you exercise a lot.”

Luke laughed, a little louder than before. “Yes, Ma’am. I’ll try to remember that next time.”

_ Next time.  _

A breeze blew past them and ruffled Annabeth’s pajamas. She shivered. The next moment, Luke by her side and sharing the blanket again. He was so close, and he was starting to feel warm again, like he was coming back to the world of the living. 

“Luke?”   
  
“Yeah?”

“Tomorrow, will you help me finish reading  _ The Bacchae?” _

Luke snorted. “Didn’t know you needed my help reading, Annie.”

Annabeth’s face felt warm. She still pressed him, “But will you?”

Between the two of them, even though Annabeth was only eleven and Luke was a teenager, she was much better with her ancient Greek than he was. But  _ The Bacchae _ was a story Luke was less familiar with, mainly because it featured their beloved Mr. D. 

It was also a good way to keep him off his feet, and they both probably knew it. 

Luke nudged her side. “Of course I will.”

And Annabeth breathed a quiet sigh of relief. 

With Luke, his worst days were sometimes followed by bad days and those bad days followed by still-not-good days. If she could keep him grounded long enough, tomorrow might not be a bad day.

As they approached the cabins, Annabeth remembered something he told her when she was eight. It was shortly after he developed his coping mechanism. They were in the Big House at the time, just the two of them.

She had been crying so hard, so scared of Luke’s bloodied shoes and his pale, tired face. It was the first time he ever ran until he fainted, and Annabeth had been the one who found him. She had screamed for help, terrified of the idea that something had gotten him and he would leave her too.

_ “Doesn’t it hurt?”  _

_ “Of course it does,”  _ he told her. 

_ “Then why do you do it?” _   


They made it to the cabins. Annabeth was almost certain that the Luke in the present, the Luke waving goodnight to her with a soft smile, didn’t remember what he had said next.

_ “So I’ll be fast enough next time.” _

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and comments are always appreciated! :)


End file.
